


Forever Now

by constellxtions



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 11x08, Gap Filler, Hurt/Comfort, Husbands, Ian Gallagher Takes Care of Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Panic Attacks, Season 11, just ian being there for mickey, they love each other very much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 00:15:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30063753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constellxtions/pseuds/constellxtions
Summary: Mickey raises his head as he says, so quiet Ian wouldn’t hear him if he wasn’t sitting so close, “He said that he could have loved me if I weren’t fucking gay.”Ian knows Mickey will never stop surprising him. He wonders about that a lot, how a person raised with so much violence around could be so caring and could love so deeply as Mickey does. Ian feels so lucky to have him.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 6
Kudos: 208





	Forever Now

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Green Day’s -amazing- song of the same name.

Ian would be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about Terry dying a lot of times. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about killing him himself on more than one occasion.

The first time he thought about killing him was when Mickey was so scared of him finding out he was gay that he was willing to kill Frank. All Ian wanted was for Mickey to feel safe with him, and he knew this would never happen as long as Terry was alive. 

Not long after that he found out about Mandy and what Terry did to her. His stomach was in knots, he wanted to throw up right then and there. But more than anything he wanted to beat the shit out of Terry, to watch him as he struggled to breathe. But he knew he couldn’t just do that. He didn’t stand a chance with him. It would be a suicide mission. And the last thing he wanted was to lose both Mickey and Mandy. He knew they hated their dad as well, but he was still their dad. As fucked up as it was. 

He thought about killing Terry everyday after he found them fucking on the couch in the Milkovich house. He wanted to see him suffer for everything he’d done to Mickey that day, for everything that moment led to. Svetlana, the wedding, the baby. Losing Mickey like that. But he couldn’t kill him, not even then. It was way easier to run away at the time.

He thought about killing Terry at the baby’s christening party. Terry was beating the shit out of Mickey again. Mickey, who just came out in a room full of homophic trash. For him. For Ian. And now Terry was hitting him in the face and Mickey was drenched in blood again and Ian just wanted him to stop, to fucking stop once and for all. So he hit him, and he hit him again. Again and again. Until he felt a gentle hand on his arm and Mickey’s hoarse voice, telling him to stop. So he did, for Mickey. 

The last time Ian thought about killing him was when Terry ruined their honeymoon. How much of a piece of shit you need to be to ruin the most important day of your son’s life? Ian kept thinking about it as they were leaving the hotel room Terry had managed to destroy. He hated the expression on Mickey’s face and he wanted to make it up to him. Maybe by choking his dad to death. 

Ian has thought about the moment Terry would finally die a lot of times. And now that it actually happened, Ian feels a little bit sick to his stomach. 

Here right in front of them is Terry’s body sitting lifeless on that chair. A plastic bag on his head. It can’t be. It isn’t.

And yet it is. 

He can’t see Mickey’s face right now, and he honestly isn’t sure if he wants to see it. His hands are slightly shaking. He tries to take one of them but as soon as their hands touch Mickey jumps and turns. Ian’s heart drops to his stomach then and he wants to touch Mickey and let him know that he’s here for him but Mickey’s already racing through the room and out of the door. Ian runs after him and stops behind him as Mickey stands in the middle of the street. He takes his head in his hands and bents down, as if he’s in physical pain. His breaths are coming in violent puffs and Ian is sure he’s having a panic attack right now. He wants to touch him but at the same time he’s afraid to scare him. 

When Mickey finally straightens his back and turns towards him, Ian takes it as his clue that he can touch him. He steps closer and takes his face in his hands. His eyes are big and wet and he’s blinking fast, as if he can’t stop it. Or as if he’s trying to erase what he just saw from his memory. And it’s then that it dawns on Ian. Mickey just saw his own dad, dead. As much as he hates Frank, he wouldn’t want to see him like that. Never. 

As he tightens his grip on Mickey’s face, he feels him holding onto his arm with his hand. 

“Fuck, Mickey. Try and breathe,” Ian can see that he’s trying, but it seems like he ran out of oxygen, “Ok, sit down.” 

Mickey does as he’s told and Ian doesn’t let go of his face for not even a second, as he kneels down in front of Mickey, who seats himself on the sidewalk. 

Ian runs a hand through his hair, “You’re doing good. Just take deep breaths.”

Mickey is looking at him with wide eyes as he tries to breathe in some air. Ian gives him a gentle pat on the cheek as Mickey regains some control over his lungs.

“Yeah, just like this, Mick,” he smiles, hoping to reassure him a little, “Let me go grab some water, ok?” 

Mickey closes his eyes, then nods slowly. Ian stands up, “Ok, be right back,” he mutters under his breath as he rushes to the ambulance. 

When he comes back to Mickey, he hands him the bottle of water and sits next to him. Mickey chugs the whole bottle and then swipes his hand through his mouth. 

As Mickey looks down between his legs, Ian lays his hand on his knee and squeezes it tightly. He watches as Mickey crushes the bottle and then gives a gentle pat to his hand. Ian knows it’s his way to say that he’s okay now. 

Ian doesn’t know if he should say anything right now. He doesn’t really know what to say.  _ I’m sorry a nun killed your abusive father  _ doesn’t sound like a good thing to say. 

So Ian just looks at him for a moment. Looks at his teary eyes and his heavy eyelids, his tiny nose sniffing once in a while. He looks at his mouth as Mickey runs his tongue along his trembling bottom lip. 

It seems so unfair to Ian, the way Mickey’s own dad fucked him up so badly and yet Mickey still cared about him. He’s seen it before, the care Mickey has for the people he loves. He just didn’t think he would give that care to someone like Terry. He’s still taken aback by it sometimes. By Mickey’s big heart. Ian knows him, he knows he may act tough but he avtually cares so fucking much. So much that he spent the whole day worrying for someone who made his life a living hell for so many years. It doesn’t seem fair. It doesn’t seem fair at all. But he gets it. At the end of the day, he’s just a kid who wanted his dad to love him unconditionally. 

He reaches out with the same hand he put on Mickey’s knee and lays it on the back of his neck, rubbing gently. 

He bites his lip before saying, simply, “I’m sorry.”

Mickey nods again, “No big deal.”

Ian knows it is. He doesn’t say anything though, just keeps soothing Mickey’s neck with his thumb. 

He doesn’t know how much time has passed before a door behind them slams. They turn at the same moment to see the nun coming down the steps and then walking away. Just like that. Not even a  _ I killed your dad, now I’m gonna go.  _ Nothing. Not that it really matters at this point. 

“I guess we should call 911 or something,” Ian says, slowly. He doesn’t want to upset Mickey, who just nodes, still looking right in front of him. 

“Yeah, we should take that bag off Terry’s face though, I ain’t sending a nun to prison for killing him,” Mickey looks down as he speaks, playing with the crushed bottle. He shrugs, “Should have seen it coming, anyway.” 

Ian nods and pulls Mickey in by his head, kissing his temple. He feels Mickey’s soft hand on his leg, patting him gently. 

“Okay, let me just-” he starts saying as he stands up from the sidewalk but is stopped by Mickey’s grip on his hand. He turns back around to see Mickey standing up as well. 

“I got this,” he just says. He starts making his way to the house. Ian stares at him before hopping to reach him and stop him as well, grabbing him by his arm. Mickey turns and Ian can see he’s pissed now. Whatever. 

“No, c’mon, let me-”

“He’s my dad!” He  _ yells,  _ his voice broken but loud. Ian just stares at him, and he knows he shouldn’t be surprised, really. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Mickey is looking everywhere but at him, so he just doesn’t. He nods instead, stepping aside and letting him go. He knows Mickey has to do it on his own.

“I’ll be here,” he calls after him. Mickey’s on the steps already but turns to look at him anyway, “If you need me, or anything.”

Mickey nods slightly, so slightly that anyone else wouldn’t have caught it. But Ian does, every single time. 

As the door closes behind Mickey, Ian takes a deep breath and sits down on the sidewalk again. He takes the crushed bottle off the ground and plays with it a little bit, to just drop it again and take his head in his hands instead. He runs his hands through his hair and exhales deeply. 

Terry’s dead. After everything he’s done, after everything Mickey had to endure because of him, he’s dead. Simple like that. Dead. Gone. Forever. 

It should be a big fucking liberation but Ian can’t stop thinking what would have happened if he died all those years ago. Before Svetlana, before the baby. He wonders what their lives could have been like. 

Suddenly he remembers Liam and his school contest. He takes out his phone from the pocket of his pants and just as he’s typing a text to let him know they wouldn’t make it, he hears a noise coming from the house, as if someone’s punching something. Then again. He abruptly stands up and rushes up the steps and through the door. 

Mickey’s standing in the middle of the living room, a bedside lamp in his hand. He throws it through the room and it shatters on the opposite wall. Ian holds up his arms on instinct, even though he knows the glass can’t reach him from there. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out as he takes a few steps towards Mickey, “Mick,” he takes his arm but Mickey pushes him away, not even looking at him. 

“Fuck you!” Mickey  _ screams,  _ his voice mean and broken and Ian stops abruptly and stands there with his mouth open, not sure if for the sudden outburst or for the fact that his husband just yelled at him to fuck off. But as Mickey keeps yelling, Ian understands that Mickey’s not angry with him, “Fuck you and your fucking  _ you’d been a half-decent son if you didn’t suck dick!”  _

Ian doesn’t really know what is happening, he doesn’t know what Mickey’s talking about. He takes a look around. Mickey didn’t make that much of a damage. Just a shattered lamp, a mug in the same condition and a chair laying on the floor near the couch, which Mickey’s currently kicking. 

Ian comes closer and takes his arm again, carefully but firmly, forcing him to turn around. As soon as Mickey does, Ian takes his other arm too and holds onto him. 

“Hey! Mickey, fuck,” he mumbles and when Mickey looks away he tightens his grip on his arms, “Look at me, Mick,” 

And Mickey does but his eyes are so full of anger and Ian just wants to make it alright, but he really doesn’t know how. He’s afraid anything he might say would upset him even more. He just wants to help him. 

He moves his hands to his face and holds it firmly, making Mickey look up at him, “Let’s go outside, okay?”

Mickey closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His nostrils are still flaring and when he opens his eyes again he looks away, but then he bits his bottom lip and nods. Ian sighs and looks around before following him outside. 

\---

“Did he say something to you while I wasn’t here?” Ian asks as soon as Mickey’s seated on the steps. He looks at him from above as Mickey presses the palms of his hands on his eyes. Ian feels like someone just stabbed him in the heart. If there’s one thing that could make him cry right there and then is seeing Mickey suffering like this. He doesn’t deserve it. 

Ian sniffs as he lowers himself on the steps beside Mickey and puts a hand on his leg. Mickey raises his head as he says, so quiet Ian wouldn’t hear him if he wasn’t sitting so close, “He said that he could have loved me if I weren’t fucking gay.” 

Ian knows Mickey will never stop surprising him. He wonders about that a lot, how a person raised with so much violence around could be so caring and could love so deeply as Mickey does. Ian feels so lucky to have him. 

He nods and sighs, then puts his arm on Mickey’s shoulder and pulls him close, planting a kiss in his hair and squeezing him as tight as he can. 

\---

After they clean the mess Mickey made in the Milkovich house, Ian calls 911 and tells them what happened, leaving out all the nun thing. When they take off with Terry’s body, Ian and Mickey make their way to the Gallagher house. 

Ian heads straight to the kitchen and starts making something to eat as Mickey drops into a chair at the table. Ian keeps checking on him as he makes a sandwich, looking over his shoulder once in a while, only to see Mickey staring at his hands, palms up on the table. 

They got rid of the camo jackets as they entered the house, carelessly throwing them onto the couch. There’s no one in the house. They are alone. On any other occasion they would have taken advantage of it. Not that it really matters to them if someone hears them banging or something. 

Ian takes two plates to the table and places one in front of Mickey, patting him in the head before sitting on the seat opposite him, “C’mon, eat something.”

Mickey snorts and rolls his eyes but does as he’s told. Ian smiles and takes Mickey’s foot between his own under the table, making Mickey smile too. 

They eat in silence as they keep playing with each other’s feet. When Ian is done with his sandwich he looks at Mickey as he eats the last bite of his, “Hey,” he calls, and Mickey looks up right away, raising one eyebrow at him. Ian smiles, “I love you, you know.”

Mickey’s face gets all soft immediately and he nods slightly, “I know.”

“Good.” He slides his foot along Mickey’s calf, making him grin sweetly. 

\---

“You know, there’s no point going at Liam’s thing, he’s probably done by now.”

Mickey snorts, unimpressed, as he lights a cigarette. Ian looks at him, downs the last of the beer Mickey got him from the fridge. He burps silently. Traps Mickey’s foot with his own again. 

“You wanna watch something?”

Mickey looks at him, “Like what?” 

Ian shrugs, “Dunno, whatever.”

Mickey looks at him for a while and Ian starts to regret his question but then Mickey just shrugs, “Okay.”

Ian grins as they stand up and make their way to the living room, dropping on the couch and sighing. 

Ian turns on the tv and fidgets with the remote until there’s what seems to be a decent movie playing. 

Ian gets comfortable as he takes Mickey’s legs and moves them around so that he can lay between them. Mickey tells him to fuck off more than once, but really does nothing to stop him doing whatever he wants. Ian kisses his hand as Mickey snorts loudly. He knows he’s faking it, proof of it Mickey’s arm that curls around Ian’s chest as soon as he lays on top of him. 

\---

Not even an hour later Ian’s phone rings. Ian sighs as he wiggles from Mickey’s grip to take his phone from his pocket. 

“Who the fuck is it,” he mumbles as he takes out the phone and when he sees it’s Carl he sighs again.

“Carl?” 

“Ian? Hey, man. Look, me and Liam are at the hospital, Frank started acting weird in front of the kids so I took him here. I don’t know what’s going on but, uhm. I don’t know, called the others, they are gonna be here soon.”

Ian doesn’t really know what to say to that. It’s not like it’s the first time Frank’s been taken to a hospital. He turns around and looks at Mickey, who’s looking at him with a confused expression. 

“Uhm, we kinda got an accident today. I don’t know if I’ll make it, I’ll let you know, alright?” 

He waits for Carl to answer and then ends the call. 

“What does he want?” Mickey asks from behind him. Ian turns to face him again. He shrugs.

“Something with Frank, I don’t know. He said he took him to the hospital ‘cause he started acting weird and stuff,” he explains and settles down on Mickey’s chest again. 

“You’re not gonna go?” 

Ian turns again, this time still laying on Mickey’s chest. He looks him in the eyes, “I don’t know. I mean, it’s Frank.”

“He’s your dad, man.”

Ian’s on the verge of saying something but as he looks at Mickey’s face, he gets it. He bites his lips and then smiles softly. Kisses him on the lips. They taste of beer and tobacco. His favourite scent. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go,” he says as he stands up and reaches out a hand for Mickey, who just sits up on the couch and looks at him.

“You go, I’ll wait for you here.”

A breathy laugh escapes Ian’s mouth, “I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“Jesus, man. I’m not a kid,” Mickey rolls his eyes but then the look on his face softens, “I’m fine, I promise. Go see your dad.” 

\---

As Ian follows his siblings and his dad into the kitchen from the back door, he can’t stop thinking about the fucking day he’s had. First Terry, now Frank. 

Ian takes off his jacket as he makes his way into the living room, only to find Mickey fast asleep on the couch, the tv still on. Ian takes the remote laying on Mickey’s thigh and turns it off, then he grabs a blanket and gently lays it on top of him. 

He stands there for a bit, just looking at Mickey sleeping peacefully. Then he goes back to the kitchen. Lip and Debbie are already arguing over Frank and what that means for them, who’s going to take care of him, if anyone. Ian stays silent for the most part, looking at Frank wandering from the fridge to the table and again and again and again. 

“The fuck you making all this noise for?” Mickey asks grumpily as he makes his way into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. His hair is all over the place. He looks fucking cute. Ian smiles at him as Mickey comes closer, squeezing his hip and pecking his neck, “You okay?” Ian nods and swipes a hand along Mickey’s cheek. 

“Frank has dementia,” Carl says, and Mickey turns to look at him before returning his gaze to Ian and raising his brow. Ian opens his mouth to explain but he’s cut off by Frank himself.

“I don’t have dementia!” He yells. 

Everyone turns to look at him and it’s clear then that no one really knows what to say. 

“I got him, you can go or whatever,” Lip says as he leads Frank upstairs. 

Ian stares at them as they disappear up the stairs and then looks down as he feels a hand gently squeezing his. Mickey looks at him and whispers, “Let’s go to bed, huh?” 

Ian nods and lets himself be dragged to their room by his husband.

\--- 

“You sure you okay?” Mickey asks as he starts stripping off his clothes. Ian shrugs as he does the same. 

“Don’t really know.”

Mickey hums and Ian hears the bed dipping. He turns to see Mickey sitting on it, only in his boxers, and looking at him. 

“What a fucking day, huh?” He says, smiling a bit. 

Ian tries to do the same but finds that he can’t, “Yeah.”

Mickey stands up then and takes a few steps in his direction. He puts his hands on Ian’s waist, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and helping him out of it. Ian complies willingly, holding his arms up in the air to make it easier for Mickey.

“Come here,” Mickey says, throwing the t-shirt on the ground and Ian leans down to let Mickey kiss him. His hands are on his cheeks now and he turns them around and gently pushes Ian backwards, so he lands on the bed on his back. Mickey climbs on him, laying on top of his chest and keeps kissing his mouth. Then he looks him in the eye and Ian feels a bit vulnerable right now. He just wants to forget this fucking day. He wants to forget Terry’s lifeless face in that plastic bag and Mickey’s rage and Frank not even knowing what he was doing in the hospital. 

Mickey’s still looking at him as he gently brushes his fingers through his hair. Ian closes his eyes, “Can we just,” he opens his eyes again and puts his hands around Mickey’s middle, “Can we just go to sleep?”

Mickey smiles softly and nods, kissing him once more, “Yeah.”

They fall asleep on their sides, one facing the other. Mickey’s hand on Ian’s hip and Ian’s resting on Mickey’s face. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Hope you liked it, feel free to let me know what you think!  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/constellxtions_) ♡  
> [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.qa/constellxtions_) ♡


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